Memory of Death
by Spout-of-Reianess
Summary: DA II - Hawke doesn't let Fenris go without a fight, but Danarius takes him anyway. Pre-established slash relationship between m!Hawke and Fenris. COMPLETE I do not own Dragon Age, Bioware does.
1. I Fenris

A/N: No, I have not played either Dragon Age game, and I've only watched my friend do an entire play through the second one. I used my resources as best I could, but as I am not knowledgeable about this universe, do not blame me for inaccuracies. Yes, it starts quite abruptly, but that's how it came out. Blame the muse for that one. It begins in the middle of the battle with Danarius. If you haven't reached that far in-game, you may not want to read this. This will not be entirely Fenris's POV. This story is finished, so there will be no delay between updates. :D

_This is dedicated to one of my best friends in the whole world, who forced me to watch hours of gameplay, and made me fall in love with Fenris. 3_

**WARNINGS:** SLASH/YAOI/HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS/M/M/whatever you call it. It is there and if you don't like it, it takes more effort to leave a flame than clicking the back button. There is cursing, OOCness, and may be some small spoilers. There will be some blood, slavery, and other teen-rated things in later chapters as well. I think I've covered all of it... Maybe I should warn you about... nah. Gives away too much of the story. ;)

**Memory of Death**

**Part I: Fenris**

"GAH!" Fenris cried out as Danarius forced his magic into the lyrium markings branded on the elf's skin. He fell to his knees, sword falling from his hand. He reached desperately for it, but it skittered further away from his grasp.

"Fenris!" Hawke yelled, and ran towards his lover, only for an arrow to pierce his shoulder from behind. He stumbled and one of Danarius' men came forward, stabbing his sword into Toma's stomach. Blood dribbled from his lips.

"Hawke!" Fenris tried to stand, but the pain was too much. Just before he lost consciousness, he witnessed Toma collapse to the floor, red pooling around his still body. The last thing he saw was his lover's normally glittering gold gaze dull and glaze over before Hawke's eyes finally closed in death.

When Fenris next awoke, he was shackled to a table with Danarius hovering over him. The old mage gave the elf a twisted leer.

"I'm glad to see that you're awake, my Pet. We need you conscious for this process, you know," Danarius spoke as he stroked Fenris' hair in false affection.

Fenris shivered and tried to cringe away from the human's slimy voice and tainted touch, but he was held fast.

"Aren't you going to ask what I'm going to do, Little Wolf?" he crooned at the slave.

"Knowing you, it will be sickening to hear it," Fenris snarled.

Danarius just laughed, brushing off the bound elf's insults. "I'm going to erase your memory," he said. "You're much easier to deal with without those pesky thoughts of rebellion and escape and whatnot."

The elf froze. Lose his memories again? To forget what freedom tasted like? Forget the friends he'd made? Forget his lover? Forget Hawke? He wouldn't allow it! The elf snarled and bared his teeth like the wolf his master like to compare him with, thrashing in his bindings.

Cold hands touched his temples and he closed his eyes unwilling to accept that he would loose his lover to Danarius twice. He focused on the way Hawke would walk, striding with purpose and confidence. Fenris visualized the way he would teasingly smirk, how his skin was darkened with the sun, the feel of his silky strands of blond hair between his fingers. He remembered how Toma's eyes glittered in the light, how his cat-like gaze would turn predatory every time they were alone. His gold irises would spark with mischief every time he said something sarcastic or witty, and they shimmered with tears when he was upset and seeking forgiveness. Hawke's eyes were where his soul had lied. They had been the most beautiful thing about his lover, but they'd never be so vibrant again. He recalled how they had dimmed and glazed over in death.

Against his will, tears slowly fell, trailing slowly down his cheeks. Then everything went blank.

Fenris blinked open his eyes. His first thought was, _The ceiling is white._ He looked around him. _The walls are beige. This room is small. This cot is uncomfortable._ These and other similar things were running through his head as he studied the area around him. Then he spotted a mirror, and he sat up to look into it and spotted his legs. _I have two legs and two feet and two knees. There are white markings on my skin._ He reached a hand out to touch them and saw his arms and hands. _They have markings too._ He touched a marking on his wrist, and practically yelped at the pain. He swiftly moved away from the hand touching him and withdrew the hand he was touching with, too quickly in fact, and it unbalanced him, causing him to fall to the floor.

"Ouch," he muttered to himself. Then he realized, "I can talk."

He shakily stood and walked over to the mirror. He peered at the pale-skinned, narrow face in the looking glass. It seemed odd for some reason to see silvery-white hair, green eyes, and pointed ears. He felt as if he were expecting to see tanned skin, blond hair, and glittering gold eyes. He stilled in thought. Gold eyes… there was something about that…

_"Fenris!" the mage yelled, running towards him. An arrow pierced his shoulder from behind, and he stumbled. He caught himself on his staff and reached his hand out desperately. Gold eyes were filled with fear for Fenris and himself. One of the enemies the mage had been fighting came towards the injured blond and ran him through the stomach with his sword. Blood spilled from his mouth as he gasped for air, his lips formed Fenris's name, but no sound came forward. He watched as those beautiful eyes slowly faded, the life in them draining away, and the lids shutting over them in death._

"Ah, Fenris. You're awake at last, my Pet. How are you feeling?"

The voice startled him from something that seemed so real and yet so much like a far away dream. He turned towards the speaker, and the sight sent disgusted shivers down his spine though he wasn't entirely certain why.

"That's my name," the elf stated, for now that he had gazed into the mirror, he knew that he was one.

The old man was startled a moment, a flash of fear on his face. Had the ritual not worked?

"What do you remember?" he asked cautiously, readying his staff just in case.

"Nothing before these walls," Fenris replied, purposefully neglecting to mention the vision he had just had.

"Excellent!" the man clapped his hands, pleased. "Cloth yourself then knock on the door when you're done. One of the other slaves will show you around the estate and explain your duties to you. Ah! And one more thing…"

The mage grabbed Fenris's jaw in one hand, the fingers of his other petting the markings on the elf's neck. The silver-haired elf hissed in pain and tried to pull away, but the man tsked in a scolding manner and tightened his grip.

"Now, now Pet. Don't struggle. Now that you're mine again, I need to retrain you," he said.

"T-train me?" the elf's hands came up to push the mage away, but excruciating pain shot up his arms and he cried out, flinching backwards.

The man let Fenris fall to the floor as he watched on with sick pleasure, grinning cruelly. The elf curled into himself, trying to get away from a torture that was already branded into his flesh. By the time the mage released him from the magic, his muscles were quivering and his eyes had rolled into the back of his head.

"You will call me Master; are we clear, Slave?"

"Y-yes, M-master," Fenris stuttered out.

"Good boy," the master grinned and walked out.

It took Fenris a few minutes to gather strength enough to even sit up, let alone stand. He groaned, his markings burning with residual pain.

"I might as well get this over with," he said to himself as he heaved his body onto the cot.

_Edited: 4-4-11_


	2. II Hawke

**Memory of Death**

**Part II: Hawke**

Hawke's eyes fluttered open, and he blearily stared at the ceiling for a moment before slowly coming to the conclusion that he didn't recognize where he was. He attempted to sit up, quickly aborting the motion upon realizing movement was equal to pain. Hawke grimaced as he recalled just why he was in pain.

"Damn Danarius to the Deep Roads and back," he muttered under his breath, "although I hope he doesn't actually come back from it."

Then someone entered the room, arms laden with a tray, upon which sat a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of water.

"Oh good! You're awake! Mother said you would be. She's always had a knack for these kinds of things," said the stranger. "Oh, where are my manners?" She shook her head. "I'm Denebe. And you are?"

_She reminds me of Merrill. _"Hawke," the injured man replied. "Any chance I can get some of that?" He gestured to the food in her hands.

"Oh, yes! Silly me. It's for you, you know. Mother made it herself. She said that it will help you heal."

"Did she now?" Hawke said skeptically and took a spoonful into his mouth, only to spit right back out again. "Ehk! What is this?"

"It's medicinal. Mother said to eat it all," she replied cheerily.

"On second thought," said Hawke, "I'm not very hungry right now."

"Even if you're not hungry, eat it all."

The mage eyed the soup distastefully and to put off eating it for as long as possible, he asked, "So where am I?"

"You're in Mother's home. Big Brother saw the fight at the Hanged Man, and dragged you here. Any longer and Mother wouldn't have been able to help you," she explained.

"And what about Fenris? My companion? Did those bastards take him?" Hawke growled.

"My brother is not a fighter Ser. I am sorry we could not help more," Denebe told him.

"I… I see… M-may I have a moment alone?" Toma requested, his head bowed.

"Of course," the girl whispered and left.

The blond spoke in a quivering tone, "Oh Fenris. How shall I live without you at my side? I cannot imagine it."

It was a few more moments before he just couldn't hold it back anymore. The dam burst, and his whole body heaved with sobs that made his wounds spasm with pain. His sorrow, however, was greater than anything physical that could be inflicted upon him. His life, his love, Fenris was gone forever. Danarius would strip the flesh from his bones to reacquire the precious lyrium that was branded there.

"Oh Maker, why?" he cried. "Why couldn't it have been me instead? Why did you have to torment such a beautiful soul such as his? I couldn't save him. I couldn't save him!"

He screamed and threw the bowl with all his might, and it impacted with the wall, shattering into many smaller pieces. It was a long while before his cries finally died down, and Hawke slipped into an exhausted slumber.

The next he awoke was to a sharp, stabbing pain in his abdomen as an old woman bent over him, poking and prodding it with her fingers.

"D-do you mind? That kind of hurts, you know," he said to her through gritted teeth.

"You didn't drink all of the soup did you? There were painkillers and a sedative in there," the woman replied as she withdrew. "It's not as bad as it feels, believe me. This is some of my best work."

"Are you Mother, then?" Hawke asked, and she nodded. "I thank you for your help then. I wouldn't have survived without it."

"Don't thank me just yet Ser Hawke. You will probably come to hate me in time," Mother told him. "You see, I run an orphanage here in Lowtown, and as all things go, we are very poor, Ser."

"Wha-"

"They will be coming to take you tomorrow morn. At least rest while you can and gather your strength. Drink this," she said and handed him fresh bowl of the concoction he had decorated the wall with earlier. "Keep your head down and pray to the Maker, Ser, that you survive this new obstacle in your life." The Mother quickly exited before the mage could get his bearings, in shock as he was.

"Slavers," he said dazedly. "Oh, Fenris, the irony of it all."

He sipped the medicine and made a face at the taste. He shook his head and downed in one go just to get it over with. It wasn't long before the sedative went to work, and he passed out again.

Hawke groaned as he regained consciousness. "What is with me lately? All I do is sleep," he said.

He opened his groggy eyes and immediately felt panic. He was being held in a small cage that wouldn't even have fit a Mabari war dog, much less a full-grown man such as Toma, yet somehow they'd managed to cram him within its confines. As his panic calmed somewhat, he felt resigned. This was his life now, and he had no will to fight it. Not after Fenris… No! He wouldn't think of it. He wouldn't let these rats see him cry.

A group of men walked in and all of the slaves went still, trying not to draw their attention. Toma eyed them curiously. The man in the middle must have been the leader from the way he walked and talked. Said leader made his merry way to where Hawke was being held. He reached through the bars towards the mage's face. The gold-eyed man snapped at the fingers with his teeth, but the slaver, quite used to such actions, deftly avoided injury and grabbed Hawke's jaw in an unforgiving grip.

"It's very rare that we get human slaves. Not many people will buy them, but you're pretty enough to sell quickly," the man said to the imprisoned blond. "How old are you?"

"Now that's an impolite thing to ask," Toma replied. "Shouldn't you take me on a date first?"

The slaver nodded at one of his goons, who jabbed the mage's bare foot with sharply pointed prod

"Hey, hey! That's not nice!"

"It can get worse, so tell me slave, how old are you?" the man repeated.

"Not spilling," Hawke said in a sing-song tone.

His foot was stabbed again, harder this time. The mage yelped, and tried to pull away, but there was no room to move.

"Twenty-six!" he shouted. "Stop! Stop! It hurts!"

"Are you a virgin to women?" the slaver inquired again.

"What? How is that any of your business? I- Ow! Stop! Ok, I'm not!"

"And what of a man? Has anyone taken your virginity from that end?"

The goons laughed a bit, and Hawke's cheeks turned red. "N-no. I was saving it…"

"I suppose I don't have to ask whether or not you're a dominant or submissive during sex," the man stated indifferently, writing down all the information on a scroll. "Your number is 486. Remember it well, for it will always be with you."

The man walked away, while the goons leered at him. "Well that was ominous. What do you think?" he jokingly asked one of the henchmen.

"I think you're going to be hurting in a minute," one of them sneered.

"Do you now?"

"Yes, I do," he replied as he grabbed the mage's leg and tied it to the inside of the bars so that his flesh was pressed against them.

There was no room for struggle, so when a red hot brand was pressed into the outside of his upper left thigh, all Toma could do was scream. He didn't fall unconscious, but he wished he had. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, and when the iron was removed, black flakes of burnt, dead skin and muscle came with it. He fell limp, too pained to move, to speak. The man untied his leg, and there were rope burns along his thigh where he had been bound.

One of the other men patted his foot in mock comfort, "It's all over now 486. Oh, wait. No it isn't!"

They laughed at his pain and misery, his form shuddering in lingering pain. Once they were all gone, he let the tears fall.

"Oh Fenris. I wish you were here to comfort and guide me through this," he said to himself, weeping for the loss of his love and everything he once knew.

_Edited: 4-4-11_


	3. III Fenlen

**Memory of Death**

**Part III: Fenlen**

Hawke didn't know where they were going, the slavers never revealed anything to their merchandise. They hardly even talked to them unless it was to tell them how useless they were or how stupid, or sometimes how much money they expected to make off of them. Sometimes they would leer at the prettier slaves, and describe in detail just what they would like to do to them. Toma was one of these slaves.

He constantly had to ignore the frequent groping of his person, and the mental images he was given when they told him how they want to fuck him into the ground until he bled. There was no end to it, but he took the Mother's advice and tried his best to keep his head down. Except for moments like this one.

"Hey! What are you doing?" the mage yelled at one of the slavers, who had an elvhen child by the hair.

"Eh? Who do you think you're talking to, slave?" the man growled. "This knife eared little shit dropped my beer all over my clothes, and I was just about to punish him."

Toma ignored the slaver a moment and turned to the child. "Do you have parents or siblings here, little one?" he asked.

The boy shook his head just as the slaver yelled, "Don't ignore me, trash!"

"Then, I will take his punishment," Hawke said.

"I- what?" the angered man paused in confusion.

"Anything this boy does wrongly, any mistake or misstep he makes, shall be mine. He will be my responsibility, and any punishment you wish to deal him, will be taken from my hide," the gold-eyed man stated.

The slaver gave Hawke a malicious grin and released his victim. "Alright," he agreed. "Forty strikes with the whip."

"No, Ser! Don't do this for me! He was only going to deal me ten with the cane! Please renounce your protection over me," the child begged.

Hawke smiled down at the little elf. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm much bigger and stronger than you are. I don't want to see such an ugly frown on such a cute little face," he said and pinched the kid's cheeks. "Smile for me, okay?"

The slaver, in his beer-soaked clothes, gripped Toma's arm in a vicious hold and dragged him to the post, where he tied the slave's wrists above his head and each ankle to rings hammered into the ground.

"You ready, bitch?"

"Of course," Hawke said sarcastically. "I love pain; I live for it."

The mage tensed his muscles as he heard the whip fly through the air; the first hit drew a thin line of blood across his shoulders. He cried out in pain, instinctively tugging at his binds to get away from the infliction. The rest of the whipping was a blur, one assault after another until they meshed together into one torturous agony. Distantly, he registered being untied from the post and being lift by several sets of hands before he passed out.

He came to, lying on his stomach, pain radiating from the stripes on his back. He tried to look around, but resigned himself to being still when it blazed up his spine to the forefront of his head.

Hawke groaned. "I have to learn to keep my mouth shut," he mumbled.

"Do you regret it then?"

The mage whipped his head around to look at the intruder, or at least he tried to, only earning himself more anguish. He cried out, several tears escaping from his eyes, as he gripped the blankets under him tightly.

"Don't move Ser!" the person said, startled at the blond's sudden movement. "We don't have any medicine for you, so you will be in pain for a long while yet. The only bandages we have are being washed for you at this moment. We can only hope that you do not contract an infection."

"I'll survive. Back to your previous question though, I won't ever regret it," the gold-eyed man told the other firmly. "No child should have to endure such things."

"And we thank you," he replied. "No other would have interfered if you had not. Not even another elf. You are the first in my many years as a slave. What does a human slave gain from this, if I may ask? All other humans I've seen only think of themselves, of how they can escape."

"I… My lover, Fenris, was once an elvhen slave, and the boy… he looks so much like him that I…" Hawke closed his golden eyes to hide the emotion in them.

"Where is your lover now? Is he the one that sold you?" the old elf asked.

"No! Fenris would never-!" Toma stopped himself mid-shout. "No, no he… he's dead now. I… couldn't save him."

"Do you want to see your child now?"

"M-my child? But I'm not…" the blond tried to deny, but the elder male stopped him.

"He is now yours; you claimed him as such. It is now your duty to see after his care until you are separated," he told the young mage.

"Yes, you're right. Of course I'll look after him. Where is he now?"

"I was washing your bandages, Ser," the boy said as he walked into the tent.

"I see," the tan-skinned human said skeptically. "And how long were you eavesdropping outside?"

A bright blush stole over the child's features, and Hawke smiled in reminiscence of Fenris.

"It's okay," he said gently. "Come here, and let me look at you. You're not hurt anywhere, right?"

"N-no, Ser. I'm alright," he replied as he shuffled closer. "Ser, m-may I ask you something?"

"No, go ahead."

"C-can I… Can I call you Father?" the boy ducked his head in embarrassment.

"Well… That was… unexpected," Toma blinked in surprise. "Um, I'm a little young to be your father, but I guess I don't really mind. What's your name by the way? I don't think anyone's told me yet."

"He doesn't have a name, Ser. He was too young to remember it when he was sold," the old elf answered. "We just call him Child or *Da'len."

"Oh, my Elvish isn't so good, but 'len' means child, right?" They nodded. "Oh good! I know it's not very original, but how about Fenlen? That's wolf child, yeah?"

Fenlen cheered and hugged the mage around the neck, careful to avoid the open wounds. "Thank you, Papa!"

A blush crept over Hawke's cheeks. "Y-you're welcome," he replied and hugged back as best he could. He laughed a little. "I guess I have a son now, don't I?"

)-Elvish Translation-(

*Da'len – little child

_Edited: 4-4-11_


	4. IV Danarius

**Memory of Death**

**Part IV: Danarius**

Hawke stood at attention as the prospective buyer inspected him, sneering at his whip markings. It had been months since he had adopted Fenlen as his own, almost a year since he was enslaved, and now he was far too scarred to be of much value any longer, even if he was a virgin.

Every time Fenlen was about to be bought, the boy would hurt the customer or piss them off terribly, warding them off making the purchase. And every time a customer was scared off by Fenlen, he had to be punished, and since the human with the sun-kissed skin was protecting the elf child, Toma was the one to receive the lashings. It was a never-ending circle, but at least they had each other.

The ex-mage was becoming hardened by his new life; he hardly laughed or smiled anymore, saving his softer expressions and words for his child, Fenlen. Every time he looked into the elf's cherubic face and pet his fine, white hair he was reminded of his past lover.

Suddenly there was a screech of pain that Toma recognized as Fenlen's. He shifted uneasily, unable to move from where he was tethered with chains. It wouldn't be the first time a customer tried to punish his son for some misdeed, but the head slaver, Doric, usually stopped them before they got too out of hand. It was bad business to let others discipline your slaves.

He heard a slightly familiar voice shouting expletives at Doric, but the human slave couldn't quite place where he had heard it before. Then he saw Fenlen running towards him from the children's slave block, and he opened his arms as well as he could, bound as he was, to receive the boy. He was slightly unbalanced as his son plowed into him, but the man held his ground.

"What's wrong, pup?" he asked gently, it was a relief that the customer that had been inspecting Hawke earlier had left already.

"I'm sorry, Papa," the child apologized. "This man is really angry, and I think he's someone important. He wants to 'put me down.' What does that mean, Papa? Does it hurt a lot?"

"Shh. Everything will be alright, sweetling," Toma comforted the little elf, petting his fair hair. "Papa will fix things."

He looked up and spotted Doric, beside him was an old man who carried himself as someone of great weight in society. The man squinted his golden eyes a little, and as they came closer the grey-bearded mage's features became clearer. And suddenly it hit him. Danarius. The man his son had supremely pissed off was the Magister Danarius, the one who had taken his lover from him.

Then his eyes found a slightly shorter male with fair hair and skin wearing familiar armour and trailing slightly behind the two humans. Lyrium burns marking what skin was visible, made Toma shake his head in disbelief.

"It couldn't be… but there is no one else who could possibly…" the ex-mage whispered under his breath.

"Papa?"

"Fenlen," said the elvhen boy's father. "You remember all those stories I told you? The ones about your namesake?" The child nodded. "Look at the elf standing next to the angry man. Do you see him?"

"Papa!" Fenlen exclaimed excitedly. "*Na lath!"

"I'm not hallucinating," Hawke shook his head again.

Before he knew it the trio was standing before him, and Doric was speaking, "Magister, this is number 486. He's the boy's protector, so any punishment is to be dealt to him."

"I don't want some substitute! I want this heathen hanged! Is that so hard to understand?" Danarius spat.

"You shall have to kill me first then. I will not allow any harm to come to my child, so long as I still draw breath," Hawke hissed at the elder human.

"Why you filthy…" the mage trailed off, his eyes sparking in recognition. "I know you from somewhere, don't I?"

Hawke was still and silent like a statue, a guardian lion with a babe cradled between its massive paws.

"Ah, I remember now. I thought you had died, but I see you've been sold like so much worthless junk at a corner store in Lowtown. How does it feel to be lower than everyone else? Less valuable than even a beast, hm? I'm quite curious, you know," the Magister grinned in sick amusement. "Do you remember this man, my Pet?" he asked Fenris.

"Fenris. _Love_." Toma held his breath in anticipation, their eyes met, and for a moment their souls connected. But the human slave's heart was crushed when he heard the elf's reply.

"No, Master. He is a stranger to me." Fenris looked away in shame at the pitiful expression that clouded the blond man's face.

"Of course not. He tried to keep you from returning to me, and do you see where he ended up?"

"Why can't you remember my Papa? He said you loved him! Papa told me that love defies everything! That's why he protects me from being whipped, and I bite people that want to buy me. We love each other, and we'll be together forever!" Fenlen exclaimed. "So you'd better remember Papa because he loves you!"

Danarius clapped mockingly. "Beautiful speech. It brought a tear to my eye," he said sarcastically. "And that brings us back to my demand."

"I told you already. Laws are laws. The boy is being protected, and you can only put one of them to death, not both," Doric explained for what he felt was the millionth time.

"Then how about this?" the old man smirked deviously. "I happen to know for a fact that this man is a mage, a hedge mage to be exact. By _law_ you have to turn him in to the Templars. Once he is within the Circle, he can no longer protect the boy, and you can put him to death, as I wish."

"No!" the golden-eyed man cried out desperately, falling to his knees in supplication. "_Please_! I beg of you! I care not what happens to me, but please, _please_ don't hurt my son. I will do anything! Anything you ask of me! Just _please_…"

"Summon a demon and use it to kill one of the people here in this marketplace, and I will give you my word that no harm will come to the child," Danarius ordered him.

"But I…"

"Do it or I'll see to it the boy dies in a most painful way."

The human slave looked at his once-lover pleadingly, before closing his eyes in resignation. "Y-yes. I will do what you say, but only if you swear on your life that no harm will come to Fenlen. You will buy him from Master Doric, and give him a place as a servant in your house, under Fenris's direct jurisdiction."

"Yes, yes. No harm, servant in my house, bargain struck."

"Magister, what are you doing? This is madness!" the head slaver exclaimed.

"Silence! You will not interfere!" Danarius barked.

Hawke turned to his son and looked him straight in the eyes. "Fenlen, please be good. Keep your head down; that means no biting or kicking."

"But I don't want to leave you! I thought we were going to stay together forever! You said so!" the elvhen child burst into tears.

"Listen to me, sweetling. You will have a good life in the Magister's home. Fenris will watch over you," he said gently. "Don't worry about Papa; I'll be just fine, ok? Smile for me, darling. You know how I love your smiles. That's my pup." Toma grinned as Fenlen's lips twitched into a shaky smile. He looked straight at Fenris, "Please watch over him, **emma sa'lath. I know that you will not fail me as I have failed you."

He pushed his son over to the older elf, and Fenlen clung to his father's lover's hand desperately. Weeping crystal tears, he buried his face in Fenris's hip. The elder of the two patted the child's head awkwardly, unsure of just how to handle the situation.

Hawke bit into his forearm, tearing away the flesh with his teeth. He golden eyes turned orange, clashing with the red of the demon. Blood splattered on his face making him all the more ominous. He broke the chains binding him and roared inhumanly.

Danarius laughed madly. "This is much better than I expected! Go on, Hawke! Kill! Murder! Shed the blood of the innocents!"

The once beautiful human was now a hulking monster with scaly skin and glowing eyes, but something about it wasn't quite right. The transformation didn't look entirely complete, and he wasn't going on a rampage like most mad blood mages. In fact, it was looking directly at Fenris with a strange expression on its face.

"F-forgive me, Fen…" it said in a garbled, distorted voice.

"What are you doing? We had a bargain, Hawke. Kill someone!" screeched the Magister.

"You said I must kill someone in this marketplace, but you didn't mention anyone I _couldn't_ kill…"

It rushed forward before Danarius could realize what it meant, and slay the monster in a man's body right where he stood. Then, a large squad of templars pushed through the panicked crowd, readying their weapons to strike

"Take my son and run," it growled at the elf. "You are free now, Fenris, and I won't let some limp-dick templars take me. I'll find you again. I want your blade to be the one that ends my existence."

"Hawke…" the green-eyed elf hesitated.

"Papa!" Fenlen screamed as a sword pierced the demon's thigh.

"Go!" it roared, sweeping the templar away with its arm.

Fenris scooped the child into his arms and ran as fast as he could. Making his way out of the city and into the forest, but still he didn't stop. Not until his muscles could no longer move, and his breath was filling his lungs in great gasps did he finally slow and eventually stop. He leaned against a wide oak and slowly slid down its trunk. Fenlen was crying again, his tears soaking the elder elf's clothing. They curled up in the tree's gnarled old roots and fell into fitful slumber, nightmares of demons and blood and death plaguing their sleep.

)-Elvish Translation-(

*Na lath – your love

**Emma sa'lath – my one love

_Edited: 4-4-11_


	5. V Song

**Memory of Death**

**Part V: Song**

It dragged itself along the forest floor with its one remaining arm, leaving a trail of dark red blood in its wake. It had lost its pursuers in the Deep Roads before it doubled back and made its way into the forest where its lover and child had fled. It could smell them and see the trail they'd made through the brush. It was getting closer; it started to salivate at the thought.

It found them sleeping between the roots of a gnarled old tree. The demon reached its claws out, but Toma reined it in, pulling its paw back sharply. Hawke snarled at it, and it slunk away to a corner of his mind.

"Fenris," he warbled quietly in the demon's voice, trying not to waken his son. "Fenris. Lover, wake up."

The elvhen warrior started awake, jolting the boy from slumber as well. The child screamed, frightened by the hideous countenance that used to be his father. Hawke stumble backwards, hiding his face with his single clawed hand.

"I'm sorry!" he rumbled. "I'm sorry, sweetling. I didn't mean to scare you. Don't look at me, Fenlen; I'm so hideous." He sobbed, though his demon form could shed no tears.

"Papa?" the child inquired, inching forward slowly. "Is that you, Papa?" Fenlen tugged at the demon's paw trying to remove it from its face.

"No! Don't! I'll frighten you again!" it cried turning its back on the boy.

"Come, Fenlen," said Fenris. "I want you to walk around the other side of the tree, and no matter what you hear, no peeking. I'll come and get you, and then we'll go to Kirkwall and try and find some of your Papa's old friends."

"But Papa!"

"Do as he says, my darling. I don't want you to see. Cover your ears and hum that elvhen song you taught me, okay?" the demon crooned sickeningly.

"Alright, Papa," Fenlen sniffled. "I love you. *Ma'arlath."

"Ma'arlath, Fenlen. Papa will watch over you from the Maker's side."

Fenlen slowly walked around the tree until he was on the opposite side from his Papa and Fenris. He covered his ears and slowly started to sing

_"**Melava inan enansal  
ir su araval tu elvaral  
u na emma abelas  
in elgar sa vir mana  
in tu setheneran din emma na"  
_

There was a gut-wrenching screech that faded into a bloody gurgled and then silenced. The boy took another breath and continued shakily, his voice quivering with tears.

_"lath sulevin  
lath araval ena  
arla ven tu vir mahvir  
melana 'nehn  
enasal ir sa lethalin"_

He jumped when a heavy hand landed on his head. He looked up to see Fenris with pitying look on his face. His armor was splattered with blood. His Papa's blood.

He burst into heart-wrenching sobs as the elder elf held him in a comforting embrace.

)-Elvish Translation-(

* Ma'arlath – I love you

** _Time was once a blessing  
but long journeys are made longer  
when alone within.  
Take spirit from the long ago  
but do not dwell in lands no longer yours._

_Be certain in need,  
and the path will emerge  
to a home tomorrow  
and time will again  
be the joy it once was_

**I do not own this song. It is "Leliana's Song" from the DLC. I found the lyrics and translation on Dragon Age Wiki.

_Edited: 4-4-11  
_


	6. V Family  alt end

A/N: I wrote this alternate ending for the same person who inspired me to write this story. She said she'd hurt me if it didn't have a happy ending, so... Here you go! XD

o0O.O0o

**Memory of Death**

**Part V: Alternate Ending – Family**

Hawke dragged himself with his only arm, a trail of blood painted along the stone floor of the cave. He ever so slowly made his way further into the depths of the Deep Roads, where he knew the templars wouldn't follow, cowards that they were.

The transformation started to recede as his strength slowly left him. He was dying, and he knew it all too well. But he wouldn't leave this world without a fight. He would see his son safe and his lover free before he passed on.

"Fenris, Fenlen, I'm coming," he said in a throaty rasp before everything went black.

He awoke again to the tarp ceiling of a tent and sighed. "Why am I always being picked up by strangers while I'm near dying?" he asked himself in exasperation.

"I wouldn't know. You're just lucky I guess," said an amused old dwarf.

The mage eyed the other male warily. "You wouldn't happen to be thinking of selling me into slavery would you?"

The dwarf gave him a funny look. "Now where did you get that idea?" he asked.

Hawke shrugged with his one good arm. "That's what happened last time someone nursed me from the edge of death."

The elder hummed thoughtfully and inhaled from his smoking pipe.

"Say, what were you doing down in the Deep Roads anyway?" the blond inquired. "It takes a lot of balls to come down here."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" the dwarf asked in amusement, and Hawke shrugged again. "Humph! I was on an expedition. There are a lot of untapped resources down in these here caves."

"Eh, too many darkspawn for my liking," the mage commented. "So… How long have I been out exactly?"

"About three days, give or take."

"Th-three? I have to go! I have to find them-!" Toma panicked, struggling to sit up.

"Whoa! Hold your horses there lad! You're in no condition to be goin' anywhere, me thinks," the old dwarf pushed the human down by the shoulders. "Now there's a good boy. Calm down and tell what you're in a hurry about."

"My lover and my son," the golden-eyed man explained. "I have to find them. We were former slaves, and I need to know that they are safe."

"Ah, I see then. Let me at least give you some supplies, and maybe fashion you a crutch. I'm pretty certain you'll need with that injured thigh."

"T-thank you Ser. Thank you so very much. You don't know what your kindness means to me," Hawke wept with his gratefulness.

The elder turned away with embarrassment, face flushed, mumbling something about packing as he exited the tent.

"Thank the Maker," he whispered.

o0O.O0o

Toma limped slowly along, making his way towards the alienage of Kirkwall, instinctively knowing that, that was where he would find his family. It had taken him several weeks to journey there, but he was confident in this.

He entered through the gate, hobbled down the stairs and into the market square where the *vhendadahl grew. There, like a dream, he saw his lover haggling over flour while he held Fenlen's hand to keep him from running off. His weary gold gaze met the bright green of his son's, and before he realized, Fenris was shouting after the boy and he was being knocked to the ground from the impact of the small child to his chest, a bit larger and healthier looking than he remembered.

Toma wheezed out a laugh, ignoring his still-lingering injuries, as he squeezed the child tightly.

"I apologize, Ser," Fenris said as he jogged towards them. "I don't know what got into him, usually he is so well-mannered. I…" The elf froze as his eyes landed upon the human ex-slave's face. "Hawke," he said hesitantly.

"Sorry it took so long for me to get here, love. I took a bit of a detour, you see," the mage grinned jokingly.

"Papa what happened to your arm?" Fenlen exclaimed.

Fenris's own gaze was drawn toward the bandage-wrapped stump; it had been cut off a few inches below the shoulder.

"You should have seen it!" Hawke exclaimed excitedly. "There was this _huge_ dragon, and he was really hungry, you see-"

"It's my fault. I should have stayed to help you fight them," the elder elf said mournfully as he knelt next to the mage, hesitantly touching the amputated limb.

Toma's enthusiasm for his false tale extinguished in the face of Fenris's sorrow. "It's not your fault, love. You got my son – our son to safety, and that is all that matters to me. What's an arm to that?" he asked, reaching his remaining hand to stroke the warrior's cheek lovingly. "As long as I have you two by my side, nothing can take me. I am invincible!" He grinned, prompting a small smile from his lover.

"Of course… **emma vhenan."

Hawke's smile was more blinding than the sun as he basked in the presence of the two people that made up his life.

)-Elvish Translation-(

* Vhendadahl – the tree of the people (the tree that grows in the middle of the alienage in Kirkwall)

** Emma vhenan – my heart

_Edited: 4-4-11_


End file.
